Firstly big thanks for all the positive messages about my rambling. Secondly, sorry about my innate laziness in preparing more snippets.
Well, it has been a very busy couple of months for us. A holiday, a move, Spooks has turned 2, and I’ve aged 20 years. The small one and I have moved back to the Shire and life is settling down. This is nice, because in the midst of all this change I had anticipated a fairly severe Gin dependency. With happiness, I am pleased to announce I’ve barely surpassed the “wine dependency” stage so in my opinion: win. However in seriousness (I know-none of you agreed to this) so much change in a condensed period of time has caused reflection on life, love and more specifically: getting old.
Not many people are brave enough to ask a lady her age. But what they shouldn’t do is guess. Ever. Someone who I’ve met recently decided to have a crack at guessing. He was 3 years out. The wrong way. Sadly, he is no longer with us…I’m kidding. He is still alive. Although how torturous I made the rest of that evening does give me some reassurance, that part of him died a little inside. However it did get me to thinking. What has changed with my face that has taken me from getting quizzed for identification when purchasing a lottery ticket at the age of 21, to door staff giving me the glad-eye to make sure I’m young enough to “boogie” in their establishment? (Don’t panic-I did that on purpose…I don’t really say “boogie”).
I would like to point out that most changes have occurred since I embarked on the journey that is motherhood. As precious as they are, children are challenging as they are beautiful. Spooks is only 2 and I have spent the majority of those 2 years walking around like a hunchback: not conducive to looking young in itself. Picking up toys, food or indeed the aforementioned child has not been effective in preventing my curvature of the spine. So I walk like a 90 year old. Add this to the facial degeneration. Dark circles, accompanied on occasion by bags are the most noticeable embodiment of tired. Wrinkles help confirm terminal aging. (I’ve started noticing wrinkles. I’m twenty-f**king-five). Finally the grey hue of the skin, not making you look dissimilar to John Major’s depiction in Spitting Image. (Actually, for those who haven’t seen me recently, that is a fairly accurate idea of what you should expect).
So there’s to looking old. Acting old is a harder nut to crack. For sure, I keep Boots in business when it comes to make-up trying to mask the physical failure of my face in retaining youth. But acting old is hard to cover-up. I’ve found myself recently using phrases like “I jest” and “A few years ago….Ooh, actually it was about 10 years ago….” These don’t entirely scream “I’m in my mid-twenties!!!” Subsequent to voluntary giveaways, I now completely fail to rise from the seated position without making an unconscious congratulatory noise. Although it has to be said, when spooks copies this-it’s a mixture of pride and hilarity that I feel.
So there’s a brief history of the down side to the inevitable landslide that is getting old. But there has to be a plus side. It can’t all be wrinkles, 9pm bedtimes and turning into your mother can it? No. There is an up side. From a personal point of view, my positive to getting old is simply being a mum. And not just so I can blame looking like a bag of spanners on constant tiredness and worry, but because rather than simply “getting old”, I can grow up. George Burns was quoted as saying “You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old”. This is a rather nice notion on the whole topic. It’s said by some that “kids age you”. I must agree. They do deprive you of sleep, provide a constant need to worry and will possibly (and on more than one occasion) make you want to reach for the gin and fags (both rather ageing in themselves). However, they will keep you young enough during your climb through the years.
Of course it’s not just children that can preserve you. Whatever can make you smile, or anything you can love will safeguard your waning youth. Unless your particular love is in fact gin and fags... In which case you may want to consider Botox and 19 year old lover….
I jest xx
